Mother's Day
by PaopuXIII
Summary: Tamaki's left to his thoughts on a certain spring morning...of course, we all know what THAT can lead to...  My first fanfic to ever be posted...completely nervous and excited at the same time! Just a touch of TamaHaru. Enjoy, and thanks for reading!


_ It's just another day._  
>That was the thought that kept Tamaki's hands from falling away from the piano. His smile was there, as it always was. However, upon closer inspection, one would find it looking slightly remorseful.<br>_ It's just another day._  
>"La Traviata" filled the air, echoing off the marble walls of the Suoh's second mansion. Its slow steadiness felt like the only tempo the dazed teen could focus on that early Sunday morning.<br>_ It's just another day.  
>Even though it's not.<em>  
>Springtime shone through the tall windows of the room, the rising sun giving dramatic shadows to every angle. Although he was sure none of the others were up yet, he could already imagine what the rest of his Host Club had planned for their mornings. His hands transitioned to another song as his mind envisioned Kyoya. He imagined his best friend ensuring his mother received only the finest for breakfast in bed. His father would be nearby, to Kyoya's hope, noticing.<br>Next, he saw the twins as the song continued. There were in matching outfits, of their mother's design, naturally. The unnatural part was them serving her every whim wholeheartedly. Regardless, Tamaki wasn't that surprised.  
>Hani was in the foreground next, hugging his mother. His brother would be standing idly by, waiting his turn, rubbing an arm in defeat.<br>Mori was placing a vase of flowers at his mother's bedside, while she attempted to encompass the tall boy in a hug.  
>Despite his daydreaming, Tamaki felt his smile grow as he thought of his friends and their fortunate Sunday mornings. They thought nothing of it, but he thought the world of it.<br>The world...  
>His fingers came to an abrupt halt.<br>In the new-found silence of the room, one more scenario played through his mind.  
>This scene had no mother, no flowers or breakfasts in bed. Instead, a dad was heading off to another day of work, his daughter seeing him off. Any sign of the cheerfulness exchanged evaporates the moment the door is closed - yes, a silence falls, much like the one in his own space. The daughter, after a moment, makes her way to a small, simple shrine, the photo of a beautiful woman as a centerpiece challenging the idea of it being "simple". Kneeling before it, the daughter's expression is nostalgic, but it doesn't take long before her large, brown eyes begin to well up. She begins blinking tears away, curling up against the wall and turning away from the shrine -<br>He was out the door before another moment could pass, the piano left in solitude.

He couldn't believe he nearly forgot! His mind was going a million times faster than the limousine he took to the apartment complex. How could he forget? He knew it all: her fears, her favorite food, every nuance that bothered her...but he forgot about her mother? His fingers tapped on his legs impatiently as he watched out the window for any sign of the Fujioka's complex, like a child waiting for a toy store. He hadn't even bothered to call up the others...they'd be busy anyway, right?  
>The moment the car came to a halt, he bolted out after a genuine smile and 'Thanks' to the driver. Soon he was rushing up the stairs, ignoring the looks he received, ready to dash in and pull his Haruhi up into his arms and aid her in this drastic situation -<br>The door opened before he could knock.  
>"Sempai? What are you doing here?"<br>Wild blue eyes met calm brown. The brown eyes were not red, sad, or wet. Tamaki was still in mid-step, and any attempt to regain his composure failed him. To make matters worse, his voice was stuck in his throat as well.  
>"Is something wrong?"<br>"You're...you're alright?" He finally managed to speak.  
>"Why wouldn't I be?"<br>His posture fell as he looked away sheepishly. "Well, it's Mother's Day..."  
>After a silence, Haruhi let him in. Tamaki sunk down to his knees at the table as Haruhi poured some tea. Now bashful, he muttered, "I...just figured...you would need someone today."<br>"Oh," Haruhi replied, glancing at her mother's shrine before joining Tamaki. "Well...it's been over ten years, so I guess I've gotten used to..." Her sentence died off as she turned back to face him. "Sempai...I think you're the one who needs someone today."  
>Tamaki quickly straightened up. <em>He <em>did? No, of course not.  
>He was here to help <em>her<em>!  
>It's just another day!<br>"You miss her, don't you?"  
>Wild blue eyes met calm brown. The brown eyes were not red, sad, or wet.<br>The blue eyes were.  
>Had he not been on the verge of tears, he would've been laughing at the memories of the many times Kyoya warned him of how "inaccurate" the visions in the "theater of his mind" could be.<br>Either way, he hadn't seen this coming.  
>As his focus came back to the Fujioka home, he suddenly realized that a pair of arms were around him, and a head on his shoulders as well.<br>"Please don't cry, Sempai! I didn't mean to offend you..." There was even the slightest hint of worry in Haruhi's usually blunt tone. At first, Tamaki didn't even know what to do. He figured silence wasn't helping anything though.  
>"Oh...no, it's alright, Haruhi, really," he stammered. Eventually, Haruhi realized what she was doing and pulled back suddenly. "O-oh...sorry, Sempai."<br>"Sorry?" He smiled. "For what?"  
>He managed to take Haruhi by surprise. "I...I was just-"<br>The...what would he call it? Moment? Awkwardness? He wouldn't know...whatever it was, it was interrupted by a knock on the door.  
><em>Ranka? <em>Tamaki froze up. Why couldn't THAT part of his vision have been correct? He knew the overly protective father would be less than happy to see Tamaki alone with his precious daughter.  
>Before he could escape, Haruhi was at the door. Tamaki clenched his eyes shut, awaiting a foot to the face.<br>"Haru-chaaan~!"  
><em> Wait...what? <em>That voice was high-pitched, but certainly not Ranka's. Tamaki peered though the small home to the entrance.  
>"H-Hani-sempai?" He stuttered in shock.<br>The short teen in question looked past Haruhi. "Tama-chan? Hey guys, Tama's here! That's why he wasn't home~!"  
>Tamaki jumped up and joined Haruhi. Sure enough, Hani wasn't the only one there...the rest of the Host Club was on the doorstep.<br>"Wha-what are you guys doing here?" Tamaki blurted out.  
>"They figured today was a good day to visit Haruhi." Kyoya stated, fixing his glasses.<br>"Yeah, Boss, can't keep Haruhi to yourself, you know." Hikaru smirked.  
>"That must of been your plan along...seeing as you never called any of <span>us<span>..." Kaoru added, mirroring his brother.  
>"That's absurd!" Tamaki denied, obviously flustered.<br>Haruhi shrugged. "Now that you're all here, you might as well come in."  
>The boys didn't hesitate to accept the offer, Hani and the twin's energetic entrances balanced out by Kyoya and Mori calmly bringing up the rear. Despite their excitement, Tamaki was still at the door, stuck in shock. Just as Haruhi went to join the others, she turned to Tamaki.<br>"Hey, Sempai?"  
>Tamaki quickly shook himself out of it. "Yes?"<br>"Don't be upset about earlier. You know, we may not be able to be with them, but Mother's Day is still a celebration. I choose today to appreciate my mother, instead of mourn over her." She turned to fully face Tamaki, looking him straight in the eyes. "I know one day you'll make it to France and see her again, with your determination." Her smile was heard through her words. Before he could manage a reply, the twins were calling for Haruhi. Hani added that they had gifts to give "Mommy" Kyoya.  
>As Haruhi walked back to the others, the confusion on Tamaki's face was slowly replaced with the smiling nostalgia from earlier that morning in the piano room. As it turned out, <em>all<em> of his visions from that morning were incorrect - one of his plans had gone awry again.  
>For once, he couldn't have been happier to be wrong.<p> 


End file.
